


金継ぎ (Kintsugi)

by daisuki



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Angst, F/M, Getting Back Together, M/M, Romance, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 14:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19014802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisuki/pseuds/daisuki
Summary: “We should break up, then.”The words were ringing in his ears. They had seemed to come from somewhere far away, oddly distorted, as if coming from a badly tuned radio. He wasn’t even sure who had spoken them - him, or Akira, but it didn’t really matter.The result was the same.





	金継ぎ (Kintsugi)

**Author's Note:**

> _金継ぎ (Kintsugi) - the act of repairing broken pottery with lacquer mixed with gold or silver, treasuring the process of breaking and repair as part of the item's history rather than something to be erased._
> 
> I'm aware the title comes off as somewhat pretentious but I'm horrible with titles in general and thought the metaphor fits quite nicely with the story I'll be trying to tell, ha. It's been stewing in my mind for a few years already, but I thought it was about time I went ahead and tried to write it out. The 10 chapters is just a rough estimate for now, it might end up being slightly shorter or longer, but I'm aiming for about that much for now. As this is a getting-back-together fic there will naturally be a lot of angst and pining, but I hope you can still enjoy it if even just a little.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We should break up, then.”  
> The words were ringing in his ears. They had seemed to come from somewhere far away, oddly distorted, as if coming from a badly tuned radio. He wasn’t even sure who had spoken them - him, or Akira, but it didn’t really matter. The result was the same.

 

 

_Ah…_

 

 

_How did it come to this?_

 

 

“We should break up, then.” The words were ringing in his ears. They had seemed to come from somewhere far away, oddly distorted, as if coming from a badly tuned radio. He wasn’t even sure who had spoken them - him, or Akira, but it didn’t really matter. The result was the same.

It felt as if he was in a very vivid dream.

The smoke rising from the nearby ashtray seemed frozen in place, the colours of his surroundings strangely desaturated. Dimly, he registered Akira still talking to him through a stream of tears, but it felt strangely detached from him, as though this was happening to someone else; as if this was happening in a film and he was just observing from the sidelines - as if this wasn’t actually happening in reality.

The sense of alienation from the situation did not manage to fully separate him from the sensation of this being something awfully important that he really should be focusing better on, but he still couldn't seem to pull himself out of the sense of unreality. He felt a vague sort of floating sensation, a bit like as if he was underwater. He wondered briefly if he would soar upwards and away from the scene at hand if he pushed hard enough away from the ground with his feet, but the remaining rational part of him thought better of it than to actually try. In an attempt at anchoring himself he instead tried moving his hand to pick up the cigarette smoldering untouched in the ashtray where he’d left it after the first drag earlier on, but it was like his brain had jammed and wouldn’t send out the signal properly. His hand simply twitched a little where it lay on top of Akira’s kitchen table, a pathetic show of just how lost he was. 

Was this really how it was going to end? Had everything that had happened between them until now really culminated in this precise moment? In his mind's eye he was speeding through their relationship and trying to find what could have possibly lead to the current predicament, picking at the odd argument or happening he'd not been completely sure about. He knew he was grasping at straws but he just wanted to find something that would justify them ending up like this. Anything other than  _that_.

“You’re not even listening to me,” Akira’s voice cut through the dreamlike fog. He laughed a short, hollow, exasperated sort of laugh that did not suit him at all, and got up from the table. “I mean, to be honest it’s not like I expected anything else, but it still fucking hurts. I do have feelings, you know, even if you’re apparently unable to compute your own like a normal fucking human being sometimes.”

The mounting bitterness and hurt in Akira’s voice stabbed through his heart like daggers, much more than the words themselves. This wasn’t at all what he’d wanted, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, this wasn’t… Takanori swallowed. He wanted very much to reply with something, _anything_ , wanted to tell Akira he had never intended to hurt him and that surely they could figure something out, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and the words wouldn’t come out. Excuses, apologies, wild ideas and half-formed sentences chased eachother around in his head, each more laughable than the last.

He knew Akira was waiting for him to respond, but his brain, usually so good at coming up with quick comebacks or lyrics, seemed to still be at a total standstill in the communication department.

The kitchen was completely quiet save for the ticking of Akira’s kitchen clock and the occasional sniffle from Akira himself. Takanori could feel his stare on him like a spotlight. He himself was still staring at the ashtray, desperately trying to snap himself back into the moment, but the more he tried to pressure his numb mind, the more the current reality seemed to slip from him, like water in cupped hands. His head seemed to have finally kicked itself back into action, but rather than providing any sort of help it was reeling with a constant flow of _t_ _his isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t real, it’s not real, it’s a dream, it’s a dream, it’s a dre-_

“...So that’s it?” 

Akira was looking at him with a crestfallen kind of incredulity that made Takanori’s gut twist uncomfortably. He felt sickened with himself for not being able to display his feelings better and for not being able to say anything for himself.

“You’re just going to sit there and not say anything?”

 _You’re giving up on us this easily?_ The unspoken words hung heavy in the air between them.

Takanori finally unstuck his tongue, but his mouth now felt like it was filled with sand. His brain still didn’t seem to operate as normal. “I… I don’t think…” he croaked out in a voice so unlike his own he had to do a mental double take to confirm it really was him who had spoken. “That’s not…” He swallowed and fell quiet again. Akira was looking at him expectantly, but he had no idea what to say. His mind was completely blank. A minute passed in complete silence.

“I guess that really is it, then.” Akira finally said in a hollow sort of voice. His expression was completely calm, but the whitening of his knuckles showed how his grip on the back of his chair was gradually tightening. Takanori willed himself to look him in the eyes, but couldn’t muster the courage to actually do it. He ended up staring at a point somewhere near his chin instead. He was such a coward when it really mattered, and he hated it.

Suddenly, Akira’s face contorted as a fresh wave of tears overtook him and he let out a small sob.

“God, I’ve been so fucking stupid,” he muttered, leaning over the table and snatching up the cigarette Takanori had been trying to reach for earlier.

 

 

 

It was only a little while later, slowly, with every step down the stairs from Akira’s flat, that the reality of the situation settled in his chest like a heavy weight.

 

 

 

They had broken up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next couple of days went by in a haze. Plans were hastily cancelled, new ones were made, and plane tickets were bought without time for second thought. Takanori had always had a remarkable drive to see his aims through once he got an idea set in his mind, and it was so much easier to focus on doing rather than feeling. They had never moved together and apart from their common friends, it was surprisingly easy to disentangle his life from Akira's and move on towards that one goal he'd had lurking in the back of his mind for so long - going overseas. Make music. What exactly he would have to do in order to make it work out once he was out of the country was less important to him right now, he just needed to get away from everything as fast as possible.

His phone rang many times, but the name he most wanted to read did not appear even once.

Not until three days later when a text ticked in.

 

_We should talk._

 

 

He had thought he understood what breaking up with Akira entailed, but the magnitude of what it really meant slammed into him with full force when he saw him standing at the corner of the park where they’d arranged to meet.

He knew that talking to calm the waters now that they’d both had a bit of time to think things through was the most sensible thing to do, but in that moment all Takanori wanted to do was turn on his heel and never have to deal with the situation. He gave himself a little shake, trying his best to ignore the numbing feeling of regret trickling down his spine and instead remember the things he'd promised himself earlier that morning when he'd tried to put together a list of things he wanted to say and do. Apologise, reconcile, part on good terms. It was simple enough, really, he just needed to fight his cowardly tendencies to shy away from the unpleasantness of it all.

Akira hadn’t noticed him yet, so he was free to study his appearance in as much detail as he could from across the street without feeling self-conscious about it. Even at this distance he was exceptionally handsome. Akira had always been attractive, but it was easy to forget in the shadow of his bright personality. The warm morning sun made his hair glow like gold and danced across his cheeks in playful imitation of how Takanori longed to touch him but would no longer be able to. It felt like a cruel reminder of how he’d let them break, let Akira’s heart break. He thought to himself he would never forget this image - Akira standing under the white cherry blossom trees, effortlessly beautiful, his bleach blonde hair radiant with the spring sun like a halo, and he wanted to make it last longer. Just a little longer.

Akira looked up, and even from where he was standing Takanori could tell his expression sobered at the sight of him. He ignored the sting in his heart and crossed the street. Best just get it over with.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Akira returned his greeting in a quiet, slightly hoarse voice. Up close it became apparent he had most likely not slept in days. The dark circles under his bloodshot eyes exacerbated his pale complexion and made him look almost sick. Seeing him again was already excruciatingly painful, but seeing him like this... Takanori shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes. The way Akira seemed to be all out of tears, all out of emotions, leaving only a very exhausted and crushed-looking shadow of the young man Takanori had fallen in love with two years ago made him want to die of shame and self-loathing. He’d spent most of the early hours since daybreak trying to muster the power to at least do this properly - look Akira in the face as they discussed things like adults - but now that he was here and had to bear witness to the damage he’d caused his courage was rapidly failing him.

“I’m sorry about some of the stuff I said that night." Akira was the first to break the silence. "I was very upset and I know I said a couple of things that were quite insensitive and mean.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at Takanori, who nodded, but did not say anything. He wasn’t sure his voice would come out right, his mouth felt like it was made of sandpaper at the moment. The corner of Akira’s mouth twitched slightly.

“You know, you’re awfully quiet when it really matters, huh.”

“I’m…" Takanori swallowed. "It’s hard.”

Akira shrugged. “Well, stuff like this… it’s never easy, I suppose.”

Takanori nodded. Akira sighed.

“I… don’t really have that much to say to be honest. I wanted to apologise for the things I said and see if you’re doing alright, which you seem to be, so I’ve gotten what I wanted here.” Akira was smiling, but there was no trace of joy in his expression. It was stiff and did nothing to cover up how miserable he looked.

“No, I’m…” Takanori began. He cleared his throat. " _I_ 'm sorry. You deserved better." He hesitated. He didn't agree with what he was about to say, but it was incredibly selfish not to. "It would probably have been better if we hadn’t-”

“Don’t say it would’ve been better if we never met,” Akira cut him off. His smile had vanished in an instant, but he didn’t seem angry, just saddened. “Even though the end hurts like this, it was good while it lasted.” He hesitated for a second, then reached out to take Takanori’s hand in his own. Takanori tried his best to not notice the warmth spreading from the point where their fingers touched.

“I’m glad we met.”

Takanori drew a slightly shaking breath and did his best to not think about how this felt so _right_. He was brought back to the first days of their relationship, when everything had been new and exciting and even just the thought of Akira had made his pulse pick up. It had been so easy, falling in love with Akira...  
And then Akira let go of his hand, and the moment was gone.

“Can I kiss you?” The words slipped off his tongue before he could even begin to consider what he was actually asking. Takanori swallowed, inwardly cursing himself for not having better control of his mouth, and directed his stare at Akira’s knees. “Y’know, one last time.” The last words were uttered quietly under his breath, but he was sure Akira had heard him.

Akira let out a soft sigh. Takanori wondered briefly if he’d rolled his eyes at the selfish request, but Akira wasn’t the type to be condescending in a situation like this (in fact he rarely ever was, he was such a thoroughly _nice_ person, and Takanori had gone and let them break like an absolute idiot...)

“I… Alright.”

Akira’s reply brought Takanori’s thoughts back on track, but only for a moment. Warm and strong hands gently cupped his face and brought it upwards and Takanori felt this heart skip a beat in anticipation. He looked up and had a brief glimpse of Akira’s expression before his eyes fell shut. He looked somberly sincere and Takanori wondered briefly how much it must pain him to do this, but then Akira’s lips were on his own, so soft and warm and so full of _love_  and for a second Takanori’s mind was wiped blissfully clean of all worries. He felt himself melting into it like he always did when they were alone and he wasn’t feeling self-conscious and watched and pretending it didn’t get to him. And he hated everything about it.

He hated the way it made his chest swell, hated the way it made the back of his throat burn terribly with anguish, hated how it was only now, when it was too late, that he was able to cherish it fully and yet would not be able to cling to the moment like he so desperately desired to. The more he wished time would stop and let him stay like this forever, the faster the end would come.

And just like that, Akira made to pull away, but Takanori leaned in forcibly, insistently, chasing his lips for another kiss while his hands clung helplessly around Akira’s neck. He wasn’t very surprised Akira let him, he had rarely denied him anything after all, but he still felt unsatisfied. There was just no way he would be able to convey all his feelings in this small gesture - all the explanations, the apologies, the confessions, everything left unsaid - and the frustration clawed at his chest and felt like it was going to rip him to pieces.

And he thought to himself he would never forget this moment either, the feeling of Akira’s bleached hair and white leather jacket under his fingers, that smell that was so thoroughly Akira, so thoroughly _home_ , and the warm spring sun filtering through the flowers above them.

When they broke apart the second time, Akira made sure to move his face away. “Taka…” he said in a slightly pleading voice, slowly, but firmly detaching himself from Takanori’s grasp and moving Takanori's hands off him.

Takanori had a sudden, intense urge to latch onto him and not let go. He knew this was truly the last time and feeling Akira physically remove himself from him felt like tearing his heart in half.

Akira touched his lips to Takanori’s forehead in a chaste kiss, and finally pulled away from him completely. Takanori felt his heart shatter in that moment. “Be good, yeah?” a small smile was playing around the corners of his lips and Takanori wanted so badly to kiss him again, to beg him to take him back and forget anything ever happened. Every part of him was screaming how this was wrong, leaving Akira was wrong, letting this happen was oh so very _wrong_. It couldn’t end like this... Right? There was more to them than this, right?

“Yeah. You too,” he heard himself say instead in a perfectly normal-sounding voice.

 

 

 

 

Sitting on the train to the airport much later, Akira’s last words were still echoing in his mind.

_"Perhaps it’s better this way, for the both of us. You’re free now, right? I hope everything works out for you. I hope you can realise your dreams.”_

He had laughed that stupid sheepish laugh of his that he always used to cover his true feelings, but the gentle smile that had settled on his face afterwards had been genuine and so full of love Takanori still didn’t know how he’d been able to walk away from it.

 

His eyes slowly moved their focus from Tokyo rushing past outside to his own exhausted-looking reflection in the train window.

 

He scoffed.

**Author's Note:**

> Since it's a prologue it's a bit shorter than what I'd usually post for a chapter, but I hope it was still satisfactory. I’m a slow writer, but I’ll do my best to update at least monthly (roughly). Unfortunately I tend to work on several things at once since I write scene by scene and not really in one go, but I will try to keep my focus on this story for now since I have pinned down most of where I want things to go.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Hope to see you again next time.


End file.
